Monday, February 23, 2015
Well, here we go again. Let's get on with it. My reaction to the show, in question form.
Didn't the stage setup actually look kind of cool this year with all the Oscar statues?
Were you worried some of them might attack?
NPH didn't waste any time with his "best and whitest" joke did he?
Tough room, huh?
Does Oprah's mere presence guarantee the Oscar host will be in for a rough night?
Shouldn't we ask David Letterman?
Isn't Jack Black looking more and more like late career Orson Welles?
Looking at that stone-faced audience, is it any wonder no one ever wants to host this thing?
Wasn't J.K. Simmons right about calling (NOT texting) your parents?
If he screamed it in character as Terence Fletcher, then would you listen?
Didn't everyone just know The Grand Budapest Hotel would handily clean up in technical categories?
Need we even ask if the show's rushing or dragging?
Don't you wish Adam Levine would sing just a little higher?
Why not bring out Keira Knightley to join him?
Why not show clips from Begin Again in the background?
Did they really shorten that song or what?
Playing winners off already?
How about NPH's poorly timed wardrobe joke after documentary short co-winner Dana Perry spoke about her son's suicide?
Were Seth MacFarlane, Anne Hathaway and James Franco off somewhere secretly breathing sighs of relief?
Was that proof this telecast can destroy anyone?
Wasn't the "Everything is Awesome" performance awesome?
Could Oprah look any happier receiving her Lego Oscar?
Can you blame her?
Was it the only time she smiled all night?
Where's Tommy Lee Jones when you need him?
Is Glen Campbell's "I'm Not Gonna Miss You" the saddest song ever?
Was the Birdman spoof funnier a day earlier on the Independent Spirit Awards?
But wasn't Miles Teller on drums a clever touch?
Are you hoping NPH was paid well for this?
Like how they grouped the Best Picture clips together to "save time?"
How many of you were able to accurately predict those two sound categories (and miss most everything else) like I did?
Can The Rock host the show next year?
Did Twitter nearly explode with Joker and Jesus references when Jared Leto came up to present?
Did Patricia Arquette turn that podium into her pulpit or what?
Wouldn't Marlon Brando be proud?
Did you see how excited the "underpaid " Meryl Streep was?
Wasn't it nice to see someone in the audience excited about SOMETHING?
Does "rushing or dragging" accurately describe the ongoing battle between the winners and orchestra?
Did you notice the crowd was completely emotionless, pissed at NPH, or crying throughout the entire show?
Has a room ever taken itself as seriously?
Wasn't that a classy, simple In Memoriam intro from Streep?
Were you relieved they decided to turn off audience sound down on the death montage this year?
Wait, where was Joan Rivers?!!!
Wasn't Rivers' entire brand synonymous with the Oscars?
Do we really need a musical performance either before, during or after the montage?
Was Whiplash's editing win well deserved or what?
Have I ever been happier to get a category wrong?
Didn't NPH's "for some treason" joke explaining Edward Snowden's absence deserve a bigger laugh?
Or ANY laugh at all from this humorless audience?
Did the surprise wins for Big Hero 6 and Interstellar ruin everyone's scorecard for the night?
Even if it got twice the time as the other nominated songs, wasn't Common and John Legend's performance of "Glory" the high point of the night?
Wasn't NPH right about John Travolta's excessive face touching of Idina Menzel?
And as hilariously comfortable as that was to watch, wasn't it a great idea to pair them up to present?
Doesn't he more closely resemble Glom Gazingo than John Travolta at this point?
Can we at least give him credit for being what so few in that audience were...a good sport?
Who better embodies the spirit of The Sound of Music than Lady Gaga?
Were you hoping she'd come out with The Muppets?
Even with the knowledge she's talented, didn't she sing that shockingly well?
Weren't we too late in the broadcast and too spent to even care?
Did you hear the uncontrollable audience laughter at Julie Andrews saying the name "Lady Gaga?"
How about Terrence Howard getting emotional over introducing The Imitation Game?
Wouldn't it be great if every presenter cared that much?
Eddie Murphy... again?
Were you worried Eddie Murphy would refuse to read the nominees and signal for a commercial break?
Was this show longer than SNL 40?
Did having the new Batman present Best Director give away a Birdman win?
Did Inarritu really just talk about balls and "little pricks" in his acceptance speech?
As disappointing as his loss was, isn't it still great that Michael Keaton's officially
Doesn't Eddie Redmayne's wife look like a cross between Evan Rachel Wood and Saoirse Ronan?
Did that make it even more difficult to root for him against Keaton?
Has anyone (other than Cuba Gooding Jr. and Anne Hathaway) ever looked happier to win an Oscar?
Was he channeling his Jupiter Ascending character for a second there?
Was Julianne Moore played up to the stage by a theme song from an 80's sitcom?
Is that really Still Alice's score (please say yes)?
If it is, should I see that film immediately?
Will the show close with NPH singing the love theme to Still Alice?
Am I the only one who thought his gag with the predictions was funny?
Was Sean Penn's Best Picture announcement the most offensive since Jack Nicholson uttered the words "And the Oscar goes to...Crash" in 2006?
Is Birdman the strangest film in recent memory (or ever?) to win Best Picture?
Isn't it weird that was the conventional, consensus pick?
Isn't it even weirder Academy members voted for it because it's about "show business?"
Isn't that kind of the last thing it's about?
Is it the film that can break the Best Picture winner's curse and age well?
Isn't it inevitable NPH will be unfairly blamed for whatever went wrong on the show?
Doesn't this telecast confirm that the problems with the Oscars go far beyond whoever is chosen to host?
Do we even need a host?
How long until those online articles start popping up calling for a complete overhaul of the show?
Aside from Carell, Streep, Cumberbatch, Knightley, Keaton and a few others, can we maybe replace the audience next year?
Will I ever learn to stop tinkering with my predictions right up until the start of the show?
Friday, February 20, 2015
Whether or not anyone wants to admit it, the Oscars still mean something. In TV, the ultimate goal isn't an Emmy or Golden Globe, but ratings and critical success. In music, the endgame is still album sales rather than winning the Grammy, which is decreasing in value with each passing year. But no matter how ridiculous the awards race gets, the Oscar still hold value as the "be all, end all" of the industry. Films are even made and released for the specific purpose of winning one, sparing us what would be an entire calendar year's worth of blockbuster popcorn franchise movies. Complain as we might about the quality or number of films selected, the snubs, or hurl often groundless accusations at its voters, the Academy still serves an important function. And at the end of the day, I'm grateful for them. While dissecting and criticizing their choices is fun, there's no doubt they serve as a guidepost, highlighting overlooked films the general public may have missed. So that in mind, I'm really looking forward to Sunday night.
For the first time since doing this, I've seen and reviewed all the nominees for Best Picture. Whether this will hurt or help remains to be seen. What would I like to see win? Without a doubt, Whiplash. No film moved or transported me as much all year, with writer/director Damien Chazelle holding me in the palm of his hands with his technical virtuosity. It was akin to watching a championship fight unfold onscreen between a great pair of adversaries and performers in Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons, complete with a shocking climax that cements it as the best nominated picture about musical obsession since Amadeus. Nothing would make me happier than seeing that cast and crew onstage clutching the gold man, but without a director nomination, it's a real long shot. My hope is that this nomination and Simmons' inevitably deserved Supporting Actor win brings this overachieving indie the attention it may not have otherwise gotten.
Instead, it's down to wire between Boyhood and Birdman, with another potential Picture/Director split on the horizon. While last year I managed to accurately predict all but two categories to set a personal record, this will be far tougher and maybe the biggest test yet of my Oscar prognosticating skills. And that's a good thing. You don't want predictability. Below are my calls for all the categories, along with some accompanying analysis for the big races. As usual, I'm reserving the right to make adjustments to these up until the start of the show.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
The Imitation Game
The Theory of Everything
*A category so close it even tops last year's horse race between Gravity and 12 Years a Slave. With all their baggage, Selma and American Sniper cancel each other out and I wouldn't be disappointed to never hear a word about either again after this. Sniper's box office does make it a threat, but like Selma, it's lack of a director nod hurts its chances. Tied for the most number of nominations, if any movie is sweeping in for an upset it's probably The Grand Budapest Hotel, closely followed by The Imitation Game, which fits the template of past B.P. winners to a tee. And both have director nods, so that helps. The Theory of Everything has no chance, its inclusion only serving the purpose of pushing Redmayne toward a Best Actor win. This leaves Whiplash, which might be the only film here everyone agrees that they love. And it has that all important editing nomination. That's big, but it's still missing that Director nomination. If it were up to me this would take it, but it's not, and it won't.
Birdman? Boyhood? Birdhood? Boyman? It's come down to this. All recent statistics and precursors point to a Birdman victory, but conventional wisdom says that even if it's a movie that's (kind of) about movies, it's too weird and experimental to take home the big prize. Also, why doesn't it have an editing nomination? That could be a red flag. Boyhood is the type of life-affirming journey the Academy loves to reward, with the added bonus that Linklater accomplished something truly unique and progressive with how it was made. Unfortunately, few saw it and some who did can't get past what they think is merely a "gimmick." Of these two admittedly great films, I prefer Boyhood, which leaves a more lasting impact. But that doesn't mean voters agree. Whichever way they go, it's a win-win.
Wes Anderson, The Grand Budapest Hotel
Alejandro González Iñárritu, Birdman
Richard Linklater, Boyhood
Morten Tyldum, The Imitation Game
Bennett Miller, Foxcatcher
*A two-man race. We can eliminate Bennett Miller whose Foxcatcher should have been nominated for Best Picture but wasn't. Wes Anderson finally got in, and in voters' minds that'll be enough for now. Nothing about Tyldum's direction of The Imitation Game necessarily stands out enough to push him through, and that's coming from someone who loves the film. Whether you pick Birdman or Boyhood for Picture, it's quite possible the opposite result will occur here. Linklater's more widely liked and feels "due" regardless of the Best Picture result, but Iñárritu's more respected. The biggest snub in this category? Not DuVernay or Eastwood, but Chazelle for Whiplash.
Steve Carell, Foxcatcher
Bradley Cooper, American Sniper
Benedict Cumberbatch, The Imitation Game
Michael Keaton, Birdman
Eddie Redmayne, The Theory of Everything
*Another two-man race. Cumberbatch actually had a real shot at one time, but he just didn't get out there enough to campaign and now he's fallen way behind. When people think of American Sniper, the first thing that comes to mind isn't Bradley Cooper (as good as he was), but the controversy and how much money it made. Some doubted Carell would even make it in so his nod is reward enough. As much as it pains me to say it, they'll give it to Redmayne over Keaton, continuing the long-running joke of the Academy always rewarding actors for playing real-life figures with disabilities. He's the safer, more universal choice so we know how this ends up. But in a strange way, by honoring him they're actually doing the performance a disservice In all fairness, I admire Redmayne's work, but boy will it sting seeing one of my favorite actors come all the way back, only to fall just short of an Oscar. Birdman could conceivably win Best Picture while Keaton loses. Here's hoping I'm wrong.
Marion Cotillard, Two Days, One Night
Felicity Jones, The Theory of Everything
Julianne Moore, Still Alice
Rosamund Pike, Gone Girl
Reese Witherspoon, Wild
*Or as it's better known, "The Julianne Moore Lifetime Achievement Award." Sadly, it's amazing Rosamund Pike even got in given how Gone Girl was snubbed across the board. Felicity Jones was great, but yet again, she's only here to prop up a Redmayne win. I want either Reese Witherspoon or Marion Cotillard to take this and I haven't even seen their films yet, which lets you know much I respect both. But it doesn't matter since Julianne Moore had the statue shipped to her house months ago. It's probably on her mantle right now, engraved and everything. Here the Academy gets to honor another one of their long standing traditions by giving out a "make-up" Oscar for a criminally overdue performer. Moore is a particularly egregious example, as she could have won at least four or five times already for superior work. But no complaints here since there's no denying she deserves it.
Best Supporting Actor
Robert Duvall, The Judge
Ethan Hawke, Boyhood
Edward Norton, Birdman
Mark Ruffalo, Foxcatcher
J.K. Simmons, Whiplash
*The best performance of the year in my favorite film of the year, and the biggest lock of the night, emerging as the clearest certainty in this category since Heath Ledger won in 2009. There's hardly any sense even discussing the chances of the remaining contenders, of which Duvall stands out as the least likely to pull off an upset. But as great as the work Hawke, Norton and Ruffalo (who I'm thrilled got in) delivered in their respective films, none stand a chance. If you had to pick a spoiler, it would probably be Norton but it's not even a conversation worth having. The unstoppable Simmons has it in the bag, but that won't make it any less satisfying when it happens. That this is such a landslide in an amazingly strong category speaks to just how great his work is.
Best Supporting Actress
Patricia Arquette, Boyhood
Laura Dern, Wild
Keira Knightley, The Imitation Game
Emma Stone, Birdman
Meryl Streep, Into The Woods
*This is a big opportunity to reward Boyhood since it's still a big question mark just how much it will be honored elsewhere. In a category that's prone to upsets, don't expect one this year. Knightley doesn't really belong here, the requisite Streep nomination is becoming a joke at this point and Dern's inclusion was a welcome surprise. It's Birdman vs. Boyhood again and Arquette's walking away with it. Still, I wouldn't completely count out the far-fetched possibility Emma Stone's name is called, even if it seems a little early in her career for such a win. But if any category's known for that, it's this one. Still, this is Patricia Arquette's to lose and she won't, as most recognize she gave the performance of her life in Boyhood, carrying that film on her shoulders all the way through. Behind Best Actress and Supporting Actor, this is the third surest lock of the night.
Best Adapted Screenplay
Damien Chazelle, Whiplash
Jason Hall, American Sniper
Graham Moore, The Imitation Game
Anthony McCarten, The Theory of Everything
Paul Thomas Anderson, Inherent Vice
*This might be the only category where it could reasonably go to anything, except maybe American Sniper, which rightly or wrongly has become a lightning rod for controversy due to its hedging of facts. Will they go for the screenplay that takes the fewest liberties with a true story or veer off in an entirely different direction by giving it to Inherent Vice or Whiplash? Adapting a Pynchon novel is impossible and given the Academy's penchant for constantly honoring Tarantino in this category, the similarly rebellious and idiosyncratic Anderson seems like the next logical step. All the confusion concerning whether Chazelle's Whiplash script qualifies an adapted or original screenplay could actually help it. Why would they go out of their way to include it (and at Gone Girl's expense no less) unless it stood a good chance? But they'll go for The Imitation Game because it's best received and prestigious entry here and will likely be shut out everywhere else.
Best Original Screenplay
Wes Anderson and Hugo Guinness, The Grand Budapest Hotel
E. Max Frye and Dan Futterman, Foxcatcher
Dan Gilroy, Nightcrawler
Alejandro González Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris Jr, Armando Bo, Birdman
Richard Linklater, Boyhood
*As beloved as Boyhood and Birdman are, both films are perceived as being more improvised than written and the scripts aren't considered highlights of either. They're director and actor showcases that will be recognized as such in those catgories. It's a legitimate thrill that Gilroy's clever, timely Nightcrawler script made it in and in a perfect world it would have a great chance of upsetting. But, alas, it won't. More controversy, this time in the form of Foxcatcher playing fast and loose with facts, will spoil whatever shot it had. Besides its inevitably strong showing in the technical categories, this is where The Grand Budapest Hotel makes its presence known. Wes Anderson, snubbed as he's been in the past, is understandably always a fixture in the writing category. And now that the Academy has fully embraced him for his most warmly received and commercially successful effort yet, he'll be riding to the stage on that “homemade bicycle made of antique tuba parts.”
Best Animated Feature
Big Hero 6
How To Train Your Dragon 2
Song of the Sea
The Tale of Princess Kaguya
Best Documentary Feature
Last Days In Vietnam
Finding Vivian Maier
The Salt of the Earth
Best Original Song
"Everything is Awesome," The Lego Movie
"I’m Not Gonna Miss You," Glen Campbell: I’ll Be Me
"Lost Stars," Begin Again
"Grateful," Beyond the Lights
Best Film Editing
The Imitation Game
The Grand Budapest Hotel
Emmanuel Lubezki, Birdman
Ryszard Lenczewski and Łukasz Żal, Ida
Dick Pope, Mr. Turner
Robert D. Yeoman, The Grand Budapest Hotel
Roger Deakins, Unbroken
Best Costume Design
Colleen Atwood, Into The Woods
Milena Canonero, The Grand Budapest Hotel
Jacqueline Durran, Mr. Turner
Anna B. Sheppard, Maleficent
Mark Bridges, Inherent Vice
Best Production Design
The Grand Budapest Hotel
The Imitation Game
Into The Woods
Best Animated Short
The Bigger Picture
The Dam Keeper
Me and My Moulton
A Single Life
Best Live Action Short
Boogaloo and Graham
The Phone Call
Best Documentary Short
Crisis Hotline: Veterans Press 1
The Reaper (La Parka)
Best Sound Editing
The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies
Best Sound Mixing
Best Visual Effects
Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Dawn of the Planet of the Apes
Guardians of the Galaxy
X-Men: Days of Future Past
Best Foreign Language Film
Wild Tales (Argentina)
Best Makeup and Hairstyling
The Grand Budapest Hotel
Guardians of the Galaxy
Best Original Score
Alexandre Desplat, The Grand Budapest Hotel
Alexandre Desplat, The Imitation Game
Johann Johannsson, The Theory of Everything
Hans Zimmer, Interstellar
Gary Yershon, Mr. Turner
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Director: Morten Tyldum
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Keira Knightley, Matthew Goode, Mark Strong, Charles Dance, Allen Leech, Matthew Beard, Roy Kinnear, Alex Lawther, Jack Bannon
Running Time: 114 min.
★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
In the historical heroes gallery that comprises this year's Best Picture race, World War II codebreaker and cryptanalyst Alan Turing stands out from the pack. Not only because his story's so different, but because so few have heard of him or that story until recently. With The Imitation Game, director Morten Tyldum makes a biopic that doesn't feel like one even when going through the usual motions because its subject transcends it, as does Benedict Cumberbatch's brilliant lead performance. It's been endlessly compared to The Theory of Everything but other than both being British biopics about tortured geniuses, there are very few similarities aside from sharing a stigma they were made as awards bait. While Everything was very much traditional biopic that methodically walked us through Stephen Hawking's marriage and illness, careful not to ruffle any feathers, this is an exciting sprint through the life and work of a complicated and persecuted man at odds with his own identity.
When this ends, you're able to understand exactly what he did and why it was so important, even if his story's the biographical equivalent of a tree falling in the forest, with someone accomplishing a feat so risky and ahead of its time it couldn't be revealed for nearly 50 years. The unheralded father of artificial intelligence and computers, Turing's odd quirks and anti-social behavior draw closer comparisons to Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network than a legend history ignored. But carrying the heavy load of his "big secret" during an unfortunately intolerant time is what ultimately caused his undoing and eventual anonymity, even in death. Tyldum's efforts go a long way toward correcting that.
Occasionally jumping back-and-forth through time between his days being bullied at boarding school in 1927 and eventual arrest and interrogation as a college professor in 1951, the bulk of the film centers on Alan Turing's (Cumberbatch) time working at England's Bletchley Park at the height of World War II. After an awkward, confrontational interview with Commander Alastair Denniston (Charles Dance), the arrogant but gifted Turing is hired and eventually put in charge of a covert cryptography team that includes Hugh Alexander (Matthew Goode), John Cairncross (Allen Leech) and Peter Hilton (Matthew Beard). Appointed by the government to secretly decrypt the Nazi Enigma machine, Turing oversees a group of men who neither like nor respect him, building a machine named "Christopher" that he hopes can decode the German encryptions. Controversially, he also adds a woman, Cambridge grad Joan Clarke (Keira Knightley), to the team. But with Denniston breathing down his neck for immediate results and a secret life that could potentially destroy him, Turing will have to learn how to play nice with others if there's to be any chance of saving lives and eventually ending the war.
Turing is immediately introduced as a conceited oddball who's to difficult to work with and nearly impossible to work for. He doesn't listen, can't look you in the eye, has problems carrying on a normal conversation and does whatever he wants regardless of the consequences or how it effects anyone else. He often comes off as an Apergers sufferer before anyone knew what it was or how to diagnosis it, with his saving grace being that he's a genius who's right about nearly everything. The machine represents the apex of his intellectual capabilities, but whether he'll admit it or not, he needs the help in honing and perfecting it to accomplish its code-breaking goal.
The push and pull of the story is Turing's constant battles with his entire team since his mind doesn't have the time or capacity for dealing with people. The lone exception is Joan, whom he goes to bat for reasons more complicated than it first appears. At first, it seems as if he's just simply using her abilities to get this done. We then suspect he might be unselfishly pushing her to fulfill her potential. And then briefly, Graham Moore's script begins hinting at a burgeoning romance between the two. This is where the movie turns on its heels and heads in an entirely new direction, as Turing's closeted homosexuality comes to the surface and threatens to end him, insuring he'll face criminal charges or worse.
Turing's secret is one he didn't even seem to be in on himself or refuses to acknowledge as reality in those times, as his misguided marriage proposal to Joan confirms. He just knows he's "different." And that's really the prism through which the whole film and Cumberbatch's work in it can be viewed, so it's strange many feel the script brushes this aspect under the rug. Every scene is about his inability to fit in, most especially ones opposite the similarly marginalized and underestimated Joan and the flashbacks to his childhood (featuring a great Alex Lawther performance as young Turing).
It's only by cracking Enigma that he can escape all this, and because Tyldum is so good at showing rather than telling, it's these scenes that crackle with the most tension and excitement. It isn't just solving Enigma, but the actions need to be taken afterwards to insure they maximize the intel they have without tipping off the Germans. They're walking a thin line that ends up introducing all sorts of complicated moral questions that the characters and audience wouldn't immediately consider. The cruelest irony is that even after Turing figures it all out, saving millions of lives and ending the war, the secret of his heroic actions isn't the one that ends up getting out. It's the other one, and it destroys him.
Cumberbatch is a revelation in this, called upon to reflect two entirely different dimensions to Turing's personality. There's the quirky, arrogant genius and the vulnerable, frightened child that's still very prevalent from the earlier flashbacks. It isn't until the third act that they completely converge and we're able to gain a full appreciation and understanding of the subtle acting choices he made earlier. While Turing may have had deeper problems co-existing with others, it's his sexuality that proves to be his true undoing. It's now insensitive to refer to it as a "handicap" or "disability," but at the time it was viewed as that or far worse, and Cumberbatch rightly plays it as such.
The film rarely cuts corners in that regard, as reluctant in revealing it as he is until the time comes to hammer home its importance in determining his tragic trajectory. Opposite him, Knightley delivers her typically solid period drama performance, which is to say she's completely effective without necessarily impressing. She can do this in her sleep, but at least here she's afforded the added benefit of playing a character of agency who can't be the love interest. But I still say her career best performance in Begin Again from earlier in the year would have made for a far worthier acting nomination.
One of the harsher criticisms leveled against the film is that even as well done as it is, this is something you'd just as easily be able to see as a television miniseries on History, PBS or BBC. But given the high quality of dramatic TV these days, is that really such an insult? While I'd agree there's nothing especially noteworthy about Tyldum's direction, a lot can be said for knowing when you have a compelling story and just getting of the way to let your actors tell it. Like most of the "based on a true story" awards contenders this year, creative liberties were likely taken with key facts, but here you can legitimately marvel at the surprising facts we do get, or that we've gotten any at all considering the unusual circumstances. The Imitation Game is absorbing and sincere enough to take the line, "Sometimes it is the people no one imagines anything of who do the things that no one can imagine" and make it seem like more than just an empty platitude.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Director: Ava DuVernay
Starring: David Oyelowo, Tom Wilkinson, Tim Roth, Common, Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Carmen Ejogo, Lorraine Toussaint, Oprah Winfrey, Cuba Gooding Jr., Giovanni Ribisi, Keith Stanfield, Tessa Thompson, Wendell Pierce, Jeremy Strong
Running Time: 127 min.
★★★ (out of ★★★★)
One of the biggest obstacles in bringing any part of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s life to the screen is that there's simply no guidepost other than history itself. Despite or maybe because of his monumental importance and cultural significance, we can't point to any contemporary film that's attempted to give us a thorough treatment of the man or what he stood for and few actors have tackled the role on a grand scale, which is probably for the best since it's a no-win situation. With Selma, director Ava DuVernay attempts what probably shouldn't be done, but takes the wisest route possible by zeroing in on a specific point in King's life to tell a larger story. One that's shamefully ingrained into the fabric of this country whether we like it or not.
There's an even bigger challenge in not turning the story into a history lesson or homework assignment that checks the boxes on certain key events with which we're already familiar. DuVernay manages to walk this line very well, taking a magnifying glass to the ins and outs of the civil rights movement while weaving it into a compelling narrative that should hold viewers' interest for the entire running length. But the strongest reason to see it is David Oyelowo's controversially un-nominated performance as King. The big surprise is watching him bring to life this man in such a way that it feels as if we're being exposed to his life and ideologies for the first time, experiencing the weight of his impact with fresh eyes. That's the real draw here. If there's anything the film will be remembered for years down the line, aside from the silly, fabricated "controversy" surrounding its accuracy, it's his restrained, thoughtful interpretation of King.
It's 1964 and Martin Luther King, Jr. (Oyelowo) has just accepted the Nobel Peace Prize, even as discrimination and racism continue to rip the country apart. The previous year four young girls were killed in a white supremacist bombing of an African-American church in Bimingham, Alabama, escalating racial tensions to an all-time high as blacks are continually denied the right to vote. When Southern Christian Leadership Conference President King meets with President Lyndon Johnson (Tom Wilkinson) in an attempt to obtain federal legislation that would allow black citizens such as Annie Lee Cooper (a powerfully subdued Oprah Winfrey) to register without restriction, he discovers the passage of such a bill is at the bottom of Johnson's political priority list.
Upon arriving in Selma with SCLC activists, King's met with even more resistance by Alabama Governor George Wallace (Tim Roth), with local law enforcement and state troopers responding to their nonviolent protests by injuring and in some cases killing protesters.This prompts King's idea for the Selma to Montgomery march, his seemingly last ditch effort to defy segregation and get through to the lawmakers. Drawing thousands of both blacks and whites from around the country, it's a dangerous but necessary move, putting these activists lives at risks, as well as King and his family's safety.
This is a difficult watch for a number of reasons that are completely unrelated to an allegedly controversial depiction of President Johnson. You'd figure that in a film covering a jaw-droppingly repulsive period in the nation's history, we'd be left more shaken by the recreation of those horrific events than preserving LBJ's legacy. It's especially comical when no one was ever previously concerned with doing that, or were even aware he had much of one to preserve. While he does come off terribly in the film, rejecting King's proposals at every turn until it politically benefits him to change course, there's little evidence suggesting those events didn't occur.
Whereas George Wallace is mostly painted a card-carrying racist, LBJ avoids that indignity, with Wilkinson playing him as an out-of-touch schemer who's eventually dragged kicking and screaming into signing the bill only after lives have been lost and he's politically humiliated. It's definitely not his finest hour, but we're kidding ourselves into thinking a President raked over the coals for his handling of Vietnam and even accused of conspiring in Kennedy's assassination was at all beloved prior to this film's release. He has his supporters and his reputation has unquestionably undergone a positive reevaluation of late, but DuVernay shouldn't be criticized for failing to portray him as a saint.
If maybe not King's nemesis, LBJ's clearly positioned as a major obstacle in blacks obtaining voting rights, and a stubborn one at that. Very much behind the curve while King is ahead of it, the movie's at its strongest when tensions reach a fever pitch and violence erupts. His non-violent sit-ins don't initially work and there seems to be much doubt as to whether they eventually will. The violent alternative is presented as Malcolm X (Nigel Thatch), who shares a brief but memorable scene opposite King's wife, Coretta (Carmen Ejogo) that seems to exist solely for the purpose of King venting about it later (hint: he doesn't like him). The more interesting stories involve the individual protesters such as Winfrey's Annie Lee Cooper and Amelia Boynton (Lorraine Toussaint), SCLC members James Bevel (Common) and Hosea Williams (Wendell Pierce), Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee founder Diane Nash (Tessa Thompson) and young marcher Jimmie Lee Jackson (Keith Stanfield), and white priest James Reeb (Jeremy Strong), whose eventual murders take this battle to a whole new level.
The picture of King in our minds is often that of a big, booming powerful force of nature so it would seem unlikely that the talented, but mostly unknown David Oyelowo would have the physical presence or charisma to pull that off. But just as we already decided how Daniel Day-Lewis should play Lincoln and what voice he should use before he actually did it, Oyelowo changes the conversation, challenging our preconceived notions of Dr. King. It's a really quiet performance but explosive when it needs to be, which makes all the sense in the world when considering his methods. There is a physical resemblance and he nails the speaking rhythms, but more importantly, he captures the determination, never blinking or wavering once in his plan despite the resistance that comes from even his most loyal supporters. The only time he lets his guard down and we see the fear and sadness is when there's a death or his family's threatened. Most of these displays of emotion occur in the scenes opposite his wife, as we see the toll it's taken on his marriage. Rumors of King's affairs are addressed before being quickly dropped, but they're never presented as anything more than that. If anything, the film even finds a way to at least partially blame Johnson for King's marital problems.
It seems as if we've entered a period where movies based on historical events are judged on their truthfulness and accuracy before anything else. This is a losing proposition since it's not only impossible to nail down every fact and conversation exactly how it happened, but it robs the filmmaker of creative license . And if it's about a touchy subject or contending for Oscar consideration, the nitpicking only intensifies. Taking all that into account, DuVernay does a great job under thankless circumstances, making logical decisions as to when she starts and stops the story. If she came in any sooner in King's life it could have been too much and if she stretched it out to include the assassination, it would just present an extra load of baggage to deal with. Just ask Spielberg, who couldn't even decide whether he was including Lincoln's assassination or not. At least DuVernay clearly commits to ending this at a concise point.
Selma is beautifully shot and superbly acted, but as awful as this statement seems, I have little desire to see it again. That's not a complete surprise given the difficult content, but it brings up an interesting question. How miserable is too miserable? While that reaction could easily be written off as the typical "white guilt" response, maybe there's some truth to it. Who of any race, gender or nationality wouldn't feel terrible watching this? And what ending, no matter how uplifting or inspirational, could possibly erase the image of blacks being beaten as gassed in the streets or that King is assassinated only a few short years later. Maybe there is an inherent liability in recreating historical events so closely in that it robs us the ability to "escape" through movies. Here, we're watching history skillfully reenacted on screen, as if it will ever provide some kind of restitution or explanation for what happened. And yes, it's true that films of this type are always released like clockwork around Oscar time. It's easy to respect what Selma does, but more difficult admitting it's something we want to see.